


in the room the women come and go, talking of michelangelo

by ashings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Intimacy, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, One Shot, Short One Shot, Sleep, is this prose?? kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 05:19:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17677136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashings/pseuds/ashings
Summary: Merlin's no expert on the ancient art of the antiquities, but Arthur looks like a Greek god and an Italian Renaissance statue, delicate and beautiful and strong, and it strips him of words and air and every coherent thought he'd ever had in his life.





	in the room the women come and go, talking of michelangelo

Arthur always reminded Merlin of an art gallery, or the photos in the slideshow from European History. If he curved, even just a little bit, he’d be marbleized forever, like Praxiteles sculpted him with his bare hands in antiquity. Even when he was sweaty after football practice, even after he stomped upstairs after an argument with Uther (“Don’t ever call him my dad again, Merlin. Please.”) to stare at him with those beat down eyes, Arthur looked like a god to him. 

He feels like one now, with his back curved towards him and his hair all but glistening on the pillow. The skin of his back is smooth under his fingertips, barring the mole right below his left shoulder blade, and Merlin traces the outline of his spine. Arthur sighs, and rolls half over on his side to look at him, his neck bending at what should be an impossible angle, eyes layered in sleep. 

“What’re you doing?” The whisper fits easily into the night, and Merlin can see the moon through the window and the trees in his peripheral vision. 

Merlin just sighs, and runs his hand over the muscles of Arthur’s arm. “Aesthetic appreciation.”

Arthur snorts out a laugh through his nose, and turns over all the way this time, Merlin’s hand sliding across his skin. Their faces are only inches apart now, and there’s nowhere to look now but right at him. 

“I’m all yours,” Arthur croaks quietly, and jerks his chin down as if to invite Merlin’s eyes to his body. Merlin keeps his gaze locked on the shadow under his cheekbone, the golden arch of his eyebrows, the blue in his eyes that looks almost silver in the dark. 

“I’m good, thanks,” Merlin says. Arthur prods him onto his back, and they’re both laughing, keeping quiet though it’s just the two of them. 

Almost in slow motion, Merlin lands one shove right at his breastbone and locks his right leg with Arthur’s left, and Arthur’s sliding off the bed. 

Merlin should be laughing, Arthur is, with one arm propping him up, but his breath is caught in his throat all of a sudden. Arthur, with a sheet found his waist, muscles taught, impossibly shaped, regal in the moonlight, like he'd been carved.

“Come to bed,” Merlin says, his voice cracking. Arthur isn’t laughing anymore, and takes his hand to pull him back into Merlin’s chest. 

They fold themselves together as if they were born to become one. Merlin’s head is pressing Arthur’s into the pillow, and he can’t even tell whose legs are whose or feel which arm is held below the weight of Arthur’s side. Merlin nestles so his ear lays against Arthur’s throat, and he can feel him swallow and mindlessly run his arms up and down his back. 

Merlin can’t seem to think of anything to say now, and the silence settles in the air like mist. 

“I think you’re art,” Merlin murmurs, right below his ear. 

Arthur slides apart just a bit, so he can look at Merlin. “What?”

Merlin swallows, and closes his eyes. “You’re the only thing I’d ever want to look at for the rest of my life, I can never look away. So-” Arthur cuts him off and for a moment Merlin can’t tell how, because he can’t see him anymore, but he feels a soft movement at his lips and understands. 

“For the record,” Arthur half-whispers gruffly, pulling away, “you’re the whole world. There’s nothing else, no one else to look at. No scenery compares. Only you, for-” Merlin cuts Arthur off this time, and neither of them say anything else.

They don't need to.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah ok im soft :(((  
> thank u for reading <33


End file.
